Holding On and Letting Go
by heavenlyshadows
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be him, he was just a kid. It wasn't supposed to be him. But it was.


Peter wasn't going to make it to the van. He knew it the instant Thanos' army had him surrounded. Even with Instant Kill tearing them apart as fast as they came, still more appeared piling on top of each other to grab the gauntlet clutched between his hands.

The other Avengers didn't seem to be doing much better. Peter could hear their desperate calls for backup over the comms and he knew they were losing. Again.

Still, they kept fighting. He could see and fighting back to back across the battlefield, the light from their suits so bright he could barely make them out. Captain America stood a few feet away from them, throwing aliens out of his path with Thor's hammer - since when had he been able to do that? - and , struggling to keep a massive wave from crushing them all.

As if he could feel Peter's gaze on him, the man turned and met his eyes, holding up a finger, and though he didn't speak, Peter understood.

_Fourteen million six hundred and five futures. How many did we win? _

_One._

For a second, only a second, Peter hesitated. He had told on Titan that he didn't want to die and he had meant it. He wanted to go back to Queens and to Aunt May and Ned and MJ. He wanted to go back to school and go on the Europe trip he and his friends had been talking about since the beginning of the year. He wanted to go back to spending his weekends in the lab with Tony or on the couch watching terrible movies with his aunt.

He wanted more time.

If he used the stones he would never have any of that again.

But he remembered what he had told Tony what felt like a lifetime ago too; _When you can do the things that I can, but you don't and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you._ Peter couldn't afford to be selfish now.

" ?" he called out over the comms. "Kid?" The question came out in an apprehensive huff as if he were expecting bad news, and Peter felt guilt stab through him. "Do me a favor ok? T-tell May and my friends that I-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there Pete cause you can-" his mentor's voice broke and Peter knew that he had seen him, had seen the gauntlet poised over his hand. "No, Peter don't you dare." his voice was equally furious and desperate. "You saw what that thing did to Bruce. I don't care if you are strong enough to stop a bus with your bare hands, even you can't survive that." Peter took a long, shaking breath. "If I don't Thanos is going to wipe out this entire planet." "That's not your responsibility!" He could see Tony racing towards him now, hear the strain of his repulsors as he pushed FRIDAY to make the suit go faster. It wouldn't make a difference. Peter had already made up his mind. "We don't have time for anything else," he said.

He pulled the gauntlet over his hand.

Immediately, pain shot through his entire body and it felt like he was burning, liquid fire racing through his veins, scorching his skin and turning his bones to ash. It was the worst thing he had ever felt. But he didn't make a sound, falling to his knees in the dirt and blinking around the black spots in his vision. He could see Thanos running for him, his face twisted in fury.

"Not this time." Peter hissed through clenched teeth.

He looked the titan dead in the eye as he raised the gauntlet and snapped his fingers.

At first, there was a flash of white and then there was nothing. _This is it._ He thought. Then he heard a voice.

"...id? Can you hear me? It's Tony." He blinked once, twice as his mentor's face came into view. He looked like crap, the blood and dirt caked on his face streaked with tears. " We won," he sobbed. "We won kid, you did it." Peter opened his mouth but it felt as if his throat was covered in ash and the words came out jumbled and wrong.

"M-Mis'r Ssta..?"

"Shh shh shh don't try to talk." Tony shook his head. "You're gonna be fine, we're gonna get you fixed up just… just-"

"Mister Stark," Peter gasped, cutting him off with renewed strength. "Let me go." Tony's shoulders shook as he took the hand that didn't wear the gauntlet in both of his, kissing the cuts and bruises on the boy's knuckles as if that was the only thing he needed to make this better. "M sorry," he mumbled. "No." Tony's voice came out fractured. "You have nothing to apologize for." Peter could feel hot tears fall on his face as Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You did good kid. I'm so proud of you."

Peter almost laughed, remembering a time before Spider-Man, before he had known at all, when he had said almost the same thing to him. The roles had been reversed then, saving some random kid in an Iron Man mask from being blown apart by a Hammer drone. The '_Nice work kid'_ he had thrown over his shoulder hadn't meant anything to him at the time but it had meant everything to Peter. Tony Stark had been Peter's hero for far longer than he had ever known, had inspired him to use his brain and the powers that came later for good because if Tony Stark could do it surely he could too. That was the dream. The eight-year-old Tony had saved that day never could have dreamed up something like this.

As carefully as he could, Tony placed his hands under Peter's shoulders, shifting him so his head rested on the man's chest. "It's ok Pete." He whispered, carding a hand through his hair, "You can rest now." Peter was suddenly unable to fight the tiredness that was pulling at him, his eyelids beginning to close. "I love you so much," Tony said against his ear. "Always have, always will." Peter smiled despite the effort. "Love you ...too."

His heart stopped before he had the chance to see every hero on the battlefield, the same hero's he had looked up to since he was a little kid, fall to their knees, a silent tribute to the youngest Avenger.


End file.
